Horoscopes – Issue 71

THIS MONTH: MAXWELL MAXWELL

Maxwell Maxwell makes silly, electronic beep-boop music and sometimes he DJs at shirts-off sparkle parties around Canada and the States. He also makes songs for his friend Peter Breeze to sing, some of which are played by other DJs at shirts-off sparkle parties around the world. He likes burritos, Ace of Base, and playing Minecraft with his boyfriend. You can check out his awesome website at maxwellmaxwell.com, or follow him on Twitter @maxwellmaxwell.

ARIES: Plastic surgery for your vagina and/or butthole is a thriving niche market, and the people performing these surgeries all went to medical school for several years. When the universe shits all over you today, realize that it could be worse.

TAURUS: You eat a vegan diet and avoid shampoo and deodorant for health reasons, but you smoke cigarettes and do blow. Make up your mind, stinkypits!

GEMINI: For most people, heroin is a gateway to a life of suffering, exploitation, and marginalization. For you, though, it might be a great way to lose those last stubborn 15 pounds.

CANCER: Don’t neglect the balls.

LEO: Clean your room. Do it right now. It’s fucking disgusting. Nobody is going to sleep with you with your room in that state. You’re almost thirty, anyways. Aren’t you a little old to have roommates? Shave that stubble off your face, too. It makes you look homeless.

VIRGO: After Charlie Sheen had his big meltdown, it was briefly amusing for people to quote him in reference to whatever pedestrian fun they get up to. Visit a mid-priced strip joint with some overgrown frat boys from your work and get a lap dance from someone whose meth addiction is the only reason they’re willing to talk to you? You must be #winning! Suck back four glasses of vodka-laced sugar water with your horse-faced girlfriends at your favourite chain restaurant? It’s obviously the #tigerblood in your veins. Enough with the tame shit – the universe needs you to put up or shut up, people. (NOTE: disregard this advice if Charlie Sheen is currently dead)

LIBRA: “Hey, it’s me. You are so fucking hot… and I want to eat you and get crazy. I want you badly, and I know you want me. But you have to be into Betsy, because I told her you were into her. Let’s hire a hooker. Let’s get some coke. But you have to be into Betsy.” At first, you thought the voicemails that television’s Pat O’Brien keeps leaving you were funny, but they’re really starting to use up a lot of your cell phone minutes, and frankly, you’re not that into Betsy.

SCORPIO: Due to the way light is bent by the immense gravitational pull of a neutron star, more than fifty percent of its surface area is visible from any angle. This information will necessitate a total redesign of the sweet airbrushed artwork on the side of your van.

SAGITTARIUS: You have something in your teeth right now. Left side. No, your other left. There you go.

CAPRICORN: Gene Roddenberry made a softcore porno. Roger Ebert wrote the screenplay to Beneath the Valley of the Ultra-Vixens. Even Angela Lansbury managed to release a workout tape largely made up of extended scenes of her giving herself a sensual massage while taking a bubble bath. Why, then, does YouTube keep taking down your fursuit videos?

AQUARIUS: Are you an awkward, conventionally attractive young woman with a bad haircut who reads a lot of blogs and hates her father? Consider fucking Dov Charney and/or Terry Richardson.

PISCES: You can buy a “wide-body” coffin on a budget at Wal-Mart. Unfortunately, this is going to be the second most depressing thing you find out today.